The old museum was on fire! Not burning in a conventional sense of the same, but being incrementally enveloped in a more undetectable smoldering sense. One where its unique one of a kind structure was smoldering from within. Some of my old friends and acquaintances with their pets still inhabiting within, I was anxious for their safety and tried to hurry along the progress of the evacuation of what they held dear before the entire wooden framework of its old eclectic five story structure might suddenly go from a slow charring consumption to burst into raging flame. A very strange feeling came upon me that I was trying to play a reversed role of savior. The task of bringing these people and their old world to safety, yet somehow performed in reverse. Acting like some backwards minded Noah shepherding these familiar others and their animals out of this place and over the small stream to find temporal safety standing on the other side of the superhighway. Yet, when it seemed all had been accounted for as having left this ancient edifice, now visibly being enveloped from within by smoke, I was compelled to return. I quickly challenged traffic to cross back over the buy six lanes of random cars and swiftly propelled myself back across the small bridge to re-enter this once all too familiar structure. The facade of the rotunda now having partially collapsed. Struck by a queasy feeling in my gut causing my lower limbs to tremble. Knowing that, all too soon, the entire store of my own long waylaid memories would be among the irretrievable casualties soon to be stolen within the building hazy atmosphere of the quickly charring timber. Compelled by some strange self-destructive force to crawl up a rough wooden ladder now before me irregardless of all consequences. My heart beating wildly as I mounted each tread into the oblivion of what had once been so painfully familiar. Now fearlessly disappearing slowly upward without hesitation into quickly descending cloud of dense smoke from those unseen flames several stories overhead right on the edge of bursting forth consuming all within the pitch black darkness. All just to search out what had so long ago been lost, yet up to then, had never been my priority to recover.
The evening had descended upon his biology several hours earlier than expected. The year’s end. It was as normal one could suppose. Way too normal to him. Sufficient warmth, a full belly and a roof over his head yet the reliable stillness engendered emptiness. And while this was not inordinately disturbing it had a nagging quality that required some diversion to keep him from pondering it obsessively. Old movies, Internet or oblivion. The outside at five-thirty in the afternoon more aptly resembled nine o’clock at night. There hadn’t been an evening in the last two weeks that he had stayed awake past seven. A degree of embarrassment in not being able to last past ten. But what was the use? No one was around to disappoint. No one to embarrass. No one to hide how empty his current existence was. It had not always been so. The night was long and maybe much longer than was bearable at this point. What had happened to that far away bygone memory of a world of happiness and someone there to be in love with? Did it ever exist to begin with?
He had been living on a merry go round for as long as he could recall. The notion of fame and glamor as industrially presented throughout his life keeping him in limbo of constant expectation near to fruition. Yet without ever attaining anything of substance. Things that seemed to be touchstones for use to find instant success were found soon as naught to simply become successive waves of empty useless junk. The vacuity that they inspired was ever too obvious to others who felt that his priorities were ever elsewhere. His innocence lost in ceaseless ambition.for his own personal conception of the brass ring gleaming ever more golden at every pass yet ever out of reach. And now he had to live with the fact that this quest had ruined him for the very world that he had desired. That it had all past by him as a result of his own gullibility and foolishness. But why? Something that he might have asked himself many years back without hope of receiving a fit reply. But now approaching the other side of the mountain the answer to explain it had become all too clear. He was a fool. A fool with a lifetime of hard won knowledge come of the hard knocks endured and stowed deep down below out of sight to stew and fester away until today. That was why he realized that going through the motions of an empty dream could no longer provide any sense of piece.
The world was a lonely place because he had not taken the effort to find someone to share it with. To follow what was the normal course of personal evolution of a growing bond of love as found in producing offspring and gaining happiness as well as enduring sadness. But doing so together. It seemed clear to him now. Yet to say so aloud was not possible as it might sound like a voice other than his own pronouncing sentence on one condemned. What did it matter to a society of others if his view of things as they really were held some degree of meaning or influence? It was just a vanity come of a sense of latent insecurity that needed proof of his worth in a contest with phantoms that in the end mattered little now that he had conquered his curiosity about such things. They had turned out in the end to be fictions that dissolved into further unrealities that ultimately led to the consequence of misguided actions. Something a trained bear might sense in its cage hearing the far off melody of other things wild and free. All it could do now far removed is growl and slobber laying listless head upon its paws. Stare out at the world beyond those bars and try to find a way to thank those bars for keeping him safe for what he was no longer fit or able enough to survive.
It was still dark. The tangle of dreams lodged like wheat paste inside the porch of his consciousness demanding a sort before the entire contents was removed to someplace unknown. Were there any pearls of wisdom to be had in his own mental chest of drawers? He could recall the presence of his long departed parents with him. The conversation being something about cleaning out the remaining items somewhere up on a higher floor of the old house built in the nineteen twenties that they had held as income property when he himself was a very young man. The confusion of fading recall that quietly beset him suggesting to his waking mind a conversation centered upon items of his that he had left there long ago, Having been overindulgent in his youth in over coddling him thoughout most of it, not to mention a portion of his adulthood, they had unhesitatingly taken on the task. When he realized that his musing within the nocturnal cloud of wispy presence that these aged spirits had taken on the task merely at his conjuring the thought alone he ran up to the upper level and found the apartment completely cleared out, A bare red rug freshly vacuumed and all other evidence of his former habitation completely removed. This stunning surprise having been relieved of so many half forgotten things classified and logged in vague memory now impossible to recall beyond the fact of their disappearance. He gazed out the back porch window but could find no evidence of anything waiting for pickup by the gate to the alley.Apparently the ledger book in some strange way had been completely cleared?
The sky sitting out beyond the open blinds was not yielding more than an occasional twinkle from far off distant fireflies waiting for clearance from the airport. All was stillness and calm aside from the quiet brushing sound of cars passing over a thin layer of snow that had descended lightly. A new day predicating another new dawning had bustled up against the indeterminate time since slumber had carried him away the evening previous. The number of colorful tiny lights glowing upon the land seemed diminished. Sunday was upon all as the rumble of a nearby car motor struggled to shake off the coldness from its engine block with its growling pistons. The proposition of another day was slowly being discussed in the actions of a few others who had already come to a definite conclusion. The question for himself now being could he shake himself out of the grip of all things past now that he had a sign that it had been cleared away for him? The engine without suddenly fell silent. The cavern of near silence that it left in its wake seemed to demand something definitive from him. A whole new line of thought that was completely unfamiliar. Maybe even intimidating! How to pick up stakes from all things long gone and move on without looking back. It seemed to him sitting there that the first step had already been taken for him.
The turkey dinner stunk. He sat in the easy chair finally relieved to be sitting. The marathon of two days had come to a climax. Early perhaps, but all the same exhausted. The drill was to be some sort of sentimental ritual of fond holiday remembrance. Recollection of times past when Christmas dinner was a regular event. An event that sometimes felt like the experience was becoming overly trite. But in light of the passing of a decade and a half had returned to the status of beyond extraordinary. Unfortunately, the noble attempt had been a failure. Not a total failure though. The turkey report four days previous stated the possibility of an outbreak if Salmonella ridden turkeys. And so he had put in the freezer when the frig seemed to have a slight off odor. Later it was apparent that the smell was from a poorly chopped red onion. The result was a certain level of insecurity as to whether his efforts to thaw in twelve hours before that after testing various scenarios from washing in tepid water and chipping away ice from the interior he was risking a waterlogged bird with all the natural juices removed. It seemed at that point it couldn’t cook right. But miraculously with a liberal transfusion of butter and thyme with a few rosemary sprigs and lime interposed apple slices in its chassis.
Where he went wrong was his timing. The two Pyrex dishes of bread dressing being perfectly cooked and set upon the burners on the stove. But to his mind needing to stay warm until the point of serving when he came back from a prearranged brunch. The minutes ticking down, he dumped the two of them back in the oven with the turkey. All the way there he knew he had made a mistake. Little did he expect that the contents of both pans would turn black as a cinder! Things seemed to go downhill from there. By the time he had everything in control enough to serve himself half of it was barely edible. The subsequent cleanup of the many greasy pots, pans, utensils as well as dishes of all sizes was prophetic in scale. Now of course that world had all been restored to a former sense of prior order. One that had been in force as set by the original owner of the utensils. He had tried their use and had found a new respect for the quiet dilemma shared each year by his dear departed mother. Her expertise had been honed to razor sharpness at that point when the small family had been installed in its first new house. A one story mid-century suburban property that sat tabla raza in a brand new subdivision that had been carved from a tract of former farmer’s field. The center of town persisting to declare itself as remaining part of a bygone era when Cyrus McCormick had them among his best customers in the heyday of bountiful crops corn or wheat. Now it served as a canvas for all their dreams to erase the hopelessness of an terrible economic depression and the war that had been waged in part to defeat it.
Some of these current utensils served as important artifacts in the entertainment rituals that his two parents put forth to attract the envy and admiration of other’s of their own generation. Siblings of my mother and my father’s mother, stepfather and half sister. Those few good years when they were allowed to demonstrate their coming success that less than a half decade would elude them. One by one these sets of merry making holiday tools were deposed to storage in the back of cupboards or redefined into more mundane uses for carrying on everyday existence. Some had been handed over by his maternal grandparents and provided lasting utility as a backup for others more modern but of a lesser quality. Thus many had earned a certain nobility in his mind as veterans from former eras of celebrations that were now nothing more than the inference of old phantoms, His weariness had led him to retire not very long after the setting of the Sun on the far horizon past the apartment’s vertical blinds. He had fallen into a stupor barely able to keep his balance as he staggered to the bedroom with the intent to turn in early. The fast erratic heartbeat of drum synthesizing the aura of amplified electric bass suddenly shaking his chambers. Somewhere below or above voices were now raised in unrestrained joyfulness. Some of them perhaps as foolishly careless and free as those of his own parents had been in their heyday. The cycle of the hopefulness of life was playing itself out once again in his vicinity just out of reach yet clearly evident.
The silence about the bedroom woke him up gently to the somber droning of the melancholy of some Middle European symphony composed in the latter half of the previous century when the horrors of the second great war were still fresh. The booming music conducted by the concrete and its sudden choruses of ebullient joyfulness now gone as if they had merely a passing folly of his imagination. The impressions currently leaking from his rising consciousness telling of a solitary old codger that had joined the party. But the party had been transposed to another place and time in an appreciation of the world as it might have been nearly a hundred years back. The joyfulness of a candy emporium or bakery with fresh newly baked odors and muslin banners and tapestry’s declaring the imminence of a new year. Smiling female faces ripe for the play of mind boggling word games and the reward for the right guess in decorative party favors. Celebration and unbounded happiness having no reason beyond its appearance in the moment. His own white whiskered bald pate’d avatar pointing to the ceiling with an impish grin declaring to the entire party,”What is another name for cupcake?” His consciousness now regained within these opposing symphonies playing each in their respective low volume and he laying cat-like and rested beneath the coverlet diagonal upon his bed. Had it all been a dream he wondered as his eyes rolled slowly towards the passage door of the bedroom. The dim glow of Christmas resting warm upon it dimly reflected by relay from that still illumined effigy within the next room. The faux armature of a small tree packed with all its old family trinkets casting its still brilliant old burning memories forth from this passage of another Christmas. It’s heritage now resplendent in the first hours of the commencement of a new day soon to come to pass.
The dullness in the left section of his thorax was slowly subsiding. It had manifested itself suddenly as he had shifted about beneath the covers in the old decor of the apartment’s solitary master bedroom. The bulk of his aging frame now on its side with a hand sticking out in the cold like an exposed turkey leg. The digital display on the clock radio glared back at the surrounding darkness. All that he could glean from the narcotic prose left from this last bout with fitful slumber was that his character was derived from strong European peasant stock. What that had to do with the other remnant that his conscious mind could illuminate was that there must be a reason that he had preferred to quietly descend to the basement steps down to that dank spare room set up with furniture even more out of date than that of the gaudy era that predominated above. He caught the notion that he still had a living relative inhabiting above. But he couldn’t be sure as he still seemed to have one foot in his dream as he made for a second shifting of his bulk one hundred and eighty degrees the other way back under the warm safety of the covers. The sound of mechanically driven air coursing non-stop from the vent above the door impotently suggesting the presence of heat. The last of the fading visions upon that fuzzy panorama of his mind being that the door was locked to the next subterranean chamber. A fact that seemed pertinent as there seemed to be a chorus of distant voices threatening to disclose him from just beyond.
The bag of old organs within his rib cage had normalized and the pain had subsided into the excuse of passing indigestion over that of an impending heart attack from the bachelor combination of food items that had served as sustenance the previous day. From where he was figuratively sitting now in the prone position Christmas was only three days hence. Three days in which another empty space of waking hours would weight heavily upon him and leave him to ponder as on every holiday what served in his own case as the joyous memories of the past. That time when there were such things as Christmas dinners of roast turkey and bread stuffing with butter and brown sugar ridden candy apple yams and cranberry sauce served magically by other loving hands. Something that had died out over the last decade as his family died out and his friends all lost touch. The stillness of the room caught his attention as the only sound was from the pressure of his tinnitus. The heater having subsided as he was busily sampling his muse. Much like in childhood he felt as if he was waiting for the event to arrive over the intervening days and hours so that he could actively do something about it. Much like some ancient navigator of the past rounding a reef lost somewhere on the other side of the planet he was anxious to return to the deeper waters of his own present endless ocean of misspent time. The pit of his stomach seemed reluctant to forage forth from this last impression of the holiday dinner steaming before his mind’s eye on the imaginary table.
Wearily he dragged himself up to the dark tiled closet sized bathroom to hover above the porcelain throne and milk his reluctant bladder of its nightly pressure. How like sex for old people this all too frequent ritual had become. It was still hard for him to consider himself as old despite the fact of a burgeoning hernia that displaced his lower torso and the rapidly fading focus of one of his eyes. Other aches and pains aside, he still felt himself reasonably mobile as the chronic lower back pains still responded favorably to just sitting up straight and not slouching. Some day he would get around to those daily sit-ups! In the meantime he dried himself off with a scrap of tissue and flushed it down running the water briefly over his hands to purify them so as not to spread his germs. An electric blue pinpoint blinking in the distance catching his eye as he turned into his lounge to the chair before the picture window. The happenstance of another soul caught lonely before the ignominy of lawless transgression. This sterile emotionless era insuring that no one would be let off with a warning in light of the coming holiday and its spirit of cheering on the finer sentiments of the season. The motion of worship being a completely secular affair. The old recliner creaked carefully as he settled into it so as not to provide that same degree of unwary strain of his misapplied weight that had broken the other one which he had discarded the year before. It didn’t seem that he was fat for his age? Certainly not the muffin top ridden aging male of the sort whose excess flesh was draped over bar stools skidding about the dimness of the establishment down the street. His age class were by now slowed down versions of perpetually persistent thinkers who still could conceive of themselves caught up in the mental hangover of youth. The flashing light had gone away leaving the space just another repetitive portion of the empty portrait of street lamp lit night.
He creaked back slowly into the chair;s furthest setting his head tilted in a manner to catch sight of the static play of light and shadow on the ceiling. The thoughts of that empty holiday’s necessary scheduling coming back into his mind’s eye focus. Late morning on Christmas Day would be brunch with an equally dispossessed old crony for an hour or two. The early morning would be the best time to conjure the elements of the day into a belly filling feast so it would be warming in the oven by the time he returned. This year he would bake a bird! He had avoided the task of cooking for the holiday right up to those few years just before the sufferance of a general decline in holiday spirit that his father’s August passing earlier that year had wrought. The notion of a full spread of cooking a complete turkey and the accompanying items seemed a bit Baroque but could be justified in the old tradition of a number of subsequent days of leftovers. He could palpably feel his hands chopping slippery cold giblets in preparation for immersion of the mush of egg and bread with onion and celery in the family artifact of a big red nineteen-fifties colored glass mixing bowl. The sensation of smells along with tastes like face cards interleaved amidst the different suits in dealing a next hand of poker. Perhaps a whole turkey was a bit too ambitious for service to a solitary diner? But then the customary ritual would be truncated in a manner that would sully the collective experience of the final sense of enjoyment? The turkey was after all the key element! And of course the compliment of the cranberry sauce the can;s of which he couldn’t allow himself to forget. Had some famous nineteenth century author updated his tale of pathetic holiday leanings this scenario might have given some special status as fit inspiration. It was a feat in anticipation of reviving something long lost and irretrievable. But perhaps, he thought the completion of another form of rite of passage as well. The solitary adventurer within him would not at this last moment shy away from another lonely reef far away from anything currently familiar.
The only concern that haunted him was that in this commercially miserly minded era would a turkey be available at this late date? The notion of having to order anything considered out of season by marketing standards a potential monkey wrench in his plans. What if there were no whole turkeys to be had? Then what? The notion crippled the reciprocating recollection cycling in his mind. Was this some unreasonable folly to considered in speculating so demonstrably upon planning a reunion of sorts with his own former era of past existence? His mouth seemed a bit wetter with all these thoughts. There was something tribal about all this almost to the point of a superstition. A feast obviously not only for himself. But as a vehicle to summon long bygone souls from an errant sense of better time past. Would those old scents and flavors however imperfectly reborn send him into a momentary ecstatic state of former homecoming? It was easy to be cynical and toss the whole thing off as some whim of unimportant nonsense. A capricious folly that would at best only yield the benefit of work for otherwise idle hands. Something that several alcoholic drinks worth of self-indulgence might just as easily functionally accomplish. The meal might fill his belly but would it serve to reestablish that lasting gap in his soul? Could he be sure that he would discover an even greater emptiness before a dining table too large overfilled with food that he could not possibly consume in that sitting. It growing equally cold in his stomach as the rest of it waited for guests that could no longer arrive? The angst of those other occasions where a party was expected but no one showed up. That sense of resentful bitterness deeply felt in the pit of his stomach spoiling everything. Would this demonstrative fantasy be enough to simply close one’s eyes and deny the truth of the existential misery of aged solitude. A passing train whistle sang out its lonely wail distracting him. Might it have been some mechanical buoy left by unseen forces to warn him off from this unexpected shoal of doubt. The other factor governing his madness now clearly upon his mind like the settling of a white linen table cloth frozen frame by frame descending airily from heaven. At this point given the situation he had absolutely nothing left to lose.
History as it is taught is a fiction that serves society by providing a stable platform for ideas conducive to furthering the goals of those that are charged with imagining its future. Some elements are factual as they are based upon monuments and narratives that having been agreeably deciphered in both literal and figurative meanings are incontrovertible in terms of their universally understandable message. The massive pictograph of Ramses II on the pylons of Karnak as a message demonstrate both policy and goals of the hierarchy of Egypt in force some four thousand years ago. The current age focused upon the world empire may be more complex as it works through many allied mediums but the underlying collective message is equally loud and clear. Men and their associations that inspire a spirit of individuality and the possibility of competitiveness are on the way out! The presupposition behind this being that the traditional family structure based upon extended generations is somehow a divisive destructive force that is an impediment to the notion of a Utopian hegemony that wishes to refashion a world society that values consensus and homogeneity. One that cannot tolerate individual motives or goals as that might interrupt a community that values universal inclusiveness based upon possible utility to the running of the state as a whole. Some have referred to such a system in the past as Communism and in more recent times as Socialism but in terms of the actual issue of human potential is a well-tested form of enslavement.
The history of competing empires that encompasses that ability to colonize the New World of the Western Hemisphere five hundred years previously using available human resources as fodder can be easily characterized as an exercise in a mass form collateral damage to gain a large expansive unilateral sense of empire based upon world commerce. The polyphony of cultural traditions from hundreds of separate cultures being weeded out to support a more unencumbered unified mode of consumer based existence. One where the social compact with individual humanity is ultimately one of a voluntary subsistence based mentality by the same. The time honored carrot and stick based political dramas that have been enacted since the last century speak more of a behind the scenes extravagant level of singular orchestration in service of this goal. A powerful elite slowly gaining title to all land and daily work product as well as offspring in both a regulatory and moral sense. Self-monitoring financially convertible units that can be traded on an international market exchange to provide resources to the benefit of an unseen hegemony that controls their outlook from cradle to grave. A perfect form of animal husbanding that is based upon breeding out all undesirable characteristics that might challenge this world order. The most effective means of exerting this agenda being to control the mentality of the female in terms of reproduction.
It is interesting that despite the willful inaccuracies of recorded history over thousands of years that are designed to benefit the victors human nature has been persistently troublesome in terms of behavior by males and females in terms of the two prime directives of survival and procreation. The modern age of entertainment media up to the end of the last century has made much of this in characterizing it as fatal or impossible love. This new millennia has radicalized the expression of same in heavily interjecting the notion of dynamics race, gender and exploitation suggesting that which was once considered as normal and desirable is male tyranny. The lessons come of implementing totalitarian measures in the three great Socialist experiments of the last century that resulted in the instituting of state policies of impoverishment over billions leading to the genocide of hundreds of millions has highly evolved the age old Machiavellian strategy of instituting a group based consciousness where factions can be set up in perpetual opposition to each other and thus easily manipulated. How easy is it to play upon the individual fears of what has been characterized as the ‘weaker sex‘ by insisting that some form of insidious underlying agenda of enslavement is inherent in the biological mating with their opposite! To direct the general discussion of society towards notions of total equality and then suggest that any differences are not irreconcilable between them as a matter of an intangible undefinable interchange but stipulate that is simply bad programming. To erase differences between individuals being a matter of customary inclusion where the most dominant institutionally prevalent world view unconsciously persuades based upon a false sense of value based notions of success.
Myths and ancient tales from the many cultures forcefully included within larger political exercises in military power to gain resources and treasure reworked to serve a unified distortion that proffers the illusion of individual freedom through decadent excess of encouraging solipsistic solitary pastimes of engagement.Worlds of simulation and repetitive cycles of feast and the threat of famine occupying the masses and keeping them attentive to the whims of elites directing them from positions of safety ensconced in total anonymity. Women who see sexual adventurism with many partners, both male and female, as a normal part of exploring their power. Males locked into a childish mentality of deferring to the authority of a mother in absence of direction from a mentally stable father figure. A society where the standard division of labor is determined by demographics and quotas as determined by the politics of the moment and not the efficient forward thinking benefits to both sexes as a whole. A tyranny daily enacted at ground level by those that are the ones ground down by it. The notion of freedom of expressing inconvenient ideas in public or private as patently intolerable to the whole isolating everyone and stripping them from any possibility of suggesting an alternative consensus. And the keystone over which the fulcrum is placed to topple the past being the false of idol of Feminism. Women forever being the most vulnerable to danger not merely by the inherent disparity in physicality with their mates but by an equal propensity to choose security over fidelity in always running to the side of the strongest so as to vouchsafe their future security. The dominant most powerful very Transexual ‘male’ in this case being the hegemony of the corporate controlled state.
Perhaps, the forgotten cultures of the past whose existence resides only in persistent myths hero’s being thwarted from immortality and morality by way of the insidiousness of the female in this regard speak just as loudly today as they did to the now extinct culture that they reference. To remove the delicate balance wrought over eons by biology cannot be functionally replaced by the creation of a mechanical species sporting the notion of absolute reliability as the call to the implementation of artificial Intelligence suggests. To create an Eden where the serpent turns the female into an agent of his own agenda is of course not a new tale. Knowledge that resides outside immediate experience is authority that must be ever suspect in terms of its veracity and possible underlying hidden aims. To stop the longstanding farce of millennium of the human race being ever susceptible to its own weaknesses and proven int he time honored sense to be fools tripped up by their own vanities will lead to the total meltdown and destruction of another iteration of society as it has time and again. The elite’s rise from the ashes like their well-publicized Phoenix birds will continue uninterrupted as it has so many times in the past unless a constituent number of the sexes recover their wits and aggressively bring this perpetual cycle of deceit to a conclusion by taking back control of their outlooks on life. The hopefulness of society of that cinematic conjuring of the elusive promise within the myth of Camelot that died with the murder of the current empires young king needs to be reinvigorated again or all the remnants of it still remaining with be totally lost.
The currently easily disposable male is useful tool at one’s beck and call all for the promise of easy sex. A resource to be financially mined at a later date as a stopgap measure in case of a paucity of current likely candidates for emotional harvesting. The current trend in #MeToo styled media disseminated mass movements setting a precedent of the removal of any credibility of the standard male by a very public display of what is seemingly a heartfelt emotional declaration by any female that she has been despoiled by same. This allegation can range back as far as childhood and need not have any substantiation beyond a few well chosen tear stained statements claiming manipulation by the man who had supposedly demanded sex without commitment. A very ironic proposition in a era when so many women engage very freely over both their adolescence early adulthood in libidinous sex as a matter of course. Not quite the classic despoiled virgin of the mythic Belle Epoque Fin d’Siecle! The infiltration of general society by Socialist causes having rotted away any protection for the male in terms of being immediately culpable of wrongdoing if they have engaged in any sexual activity with the woman. Or, at this juncture in time, any contemplation of the same.
These forays in the realm of personal human relations against the being very similar in structure to the useful employ of the term ‘anti-Semitism‘ when volleyed by those the of hegemonic Jewish lineage against those who they are at odds with. Or with the currently unsanctioned public use of the term ‘Nigger‘ by anyone from the Caucasian lineage. Something employed as a show-stopper by Negros in general to enfranchise their employ of the threat of their potentially violent behavior. Something quite similar in an equivalent manner as the notion of there being an endemic racism manifest a priori within all Northern European descended people. All these motifs being branches of the same tree of Marxism. Something which in turn is merely chapter and verse from the core doctrine of the cult of traditional Judaism’s tried and true central playbook. The polite term currently in use in modern society being Liberal or Left Wing. There being no surprise that the underpinnings in every form of this Left Liberal Orthodoxy is run strictly upon the Soviet model. One common proof of all this resting in all the strict taboos built up both legally and in common vernacular to stay a safe distance by employing vague euphemism’s rather than directly single out any transgressions by these groups via historical or verifiable documentary evidence that substantiate the veracity of these conclusions.
It is with little irony that relations between the men and women within Western Society are at grave peril by the point of the spear from this form of attack. The ultimate goal being to erode their position and power in this current transitional phase of a politically corrected modern society and eventually nullify it. That long festering devisive dogma of Feminism accompanied by its corollary of perpetual victim hood being at its foundation serving as that critical sledgehammer to completely disenfranchise any preeminent male and thus take down current society to the weeds. The points of order of this plan demanding that those evidencing a vibrant constructive masculinity be completely replaced by decadent non-productive segments existing at the fringe of society or mass immigration of foreigners born of diametrically contradictory cultural traditions that wish to shift things to their liking.
All this cannot be accomplished if the current society that remains tenuously in force is founded upon that natural coalition of a traditional male and female based family organization. The Socialist state must cuckold the male for the sake of obtaining the female as its permanent mate controlling her through the ongoing promise of security and care. The individual male being de-evolved to a defacto beast of burden and institutionally lacking in the capacity to positively respond to anything more challenging that trivial demands from maternal based sources. The ready supply of plentiful male cannon fodder still at hand for internecine conflicts needed to defeat internal rivals and maintain the illusion of ongoing external political threats too keep any questions threatening subservience to a trickle. The outcome of this strategy currently in play being to at the very least create constant friction between the sexes developing both parties in an atmosphere of mistrust. The transformation of of current formative generations through technology and ceaseless indoctrination being counted on to solidify this transition to the gold standard of a pyramidal hierarchy where the mass of humanity is under the proverbial boot ready to try out its tenure of stamping upon the face of a humanity purged of the threat of rival males forever.
“mangina” – Etymology: A blend of a man and a vagina. Noun: A derogatory slang for a man who identifies with a Feminist
I imagine that many women enter in a safe relationship with a man initially believing that they have a beta male that they can limit and control if necessary. But they often find out down the road that they have been assessed by that same male as a similar commodity that serves as a place keeper for something more meaningful. A fact that becomes a blow to the ego of the woman but not for that of the man as he understand from the get go that he is being used where she still holds onto an unrealistic sense of fantasy based upon the swing of her emotions. The women eventually by middle age become emptied of all notions of empathy or a desire to extend any level of kindness and build their world around the next best alternative of pet that must deliver unrequited affection as it is in their care as a prisoner. The background level of inherent mistrust by successive generations that grow up under this sort of tutelage undermines the bonds of connection and destroys any possibility of romance or the ability to define it for that generation.
Is it any wonder that in the current time frame of the present that programs of Marxist agendas of the destabilization of Western institutions that were once cloaked within the safety of the arcane terminologies of Jewish inspired philosophies have now come so brutally out of the closet condemning anything counter to their aims as racist and oppressive. That mistaken notion that one can no longer have a discussion with anyone deemed a ‘NAZI‘. The contraction of the term itself losing the ‘SOCIALIST‘ component defeating any historical political context to become an unalterable label to be pinned on anyone cast as an opponent that demands there be only a single absolutely necessary hostile course of action. The response needing no further internal debate fully sanctified despite any contradictory evidence offered in the encounter. The interaction from that point on fielded over to one of a test of power of one’s ability to mount overwhelming physical aggression by acting within the safe anonymity of mob action and discarding any individual reason. The transparency of the longstanding singular world view of the ever persistent cultural insurgents evident over history becoming now fully visible and manifest in our own era.
The tried and true dogma employ of endlessly proselytizing the notion of perpetrator and victim deserving a righteous response per the overbearing judgement of an unseen higher power taken straight from the Pentateuch. That age old notion without any definable earthly boundaries or moral limits accorded to any outside of a tribe kept within a perpetual lockstep of intellectual deprivation. The notion of equal outcomes inherent in the most popularized sense Democracy being a simple, “Will of the majority, end of story!”, not a supportable concept outside the Utopian fiction loving province of the mind. A symptom of a lack of development from the solipsistic ego state of a child and not that of an adult based sense of pondering difficult issues employing the intellectual. Orders concerning what to think and when to think it always being handed down seamlessly from above and ALWAYS accepted by the group without question. Whatever the individual thinks privately on his own time is of no concern as long as he does not act upon it. The pressure inherent within a true Republic where a governing body headed up by a single leader must constantly take into account and treat with the complexities of shifting public opinion completely absent within this other Socialistic hive based model. Women by their inherent behavior to work within the secure boundaries in the safe state of consensus being a better choice for the current sense of Democracy. That is why anything male and likely to challenge such arrangements must be denigrated lest that sense of inferred community can be exposed as nothing more than a tyranny from above.
The idea of making women fully equal to men in this sense of making key decisions about governance and the final say about the structuring of society attacks the most vulnerable part of a Republic based structure. A Democracy in the form advanced by Marxists is a tyranny that demands all blindly accept the ceremonial ritual of voting by what is characterized as a clear majority. That notion presupposes that an enlightened society is a mono-culture where men and women as exactly the same as far as society is concerned. This extends to any group that can be used as a tool to destabilize Western Society. Women provide the best candidates for exploiting in enabling this strategy. Anyone who is willing to look beyond the dogma of their beliefs in the long term knows that this is just not so. Men and women along with any other definable group may occasionally have similarities in practice but in terms of the genus are radically different in their innate functions and outlook as produced by the evolutionary process of biology and the application of external circumstances as noted in recorded history and behavioral sciences. The notion that one can breed out these differences over generations coming from the playbook of Eugenics. That perspective held traditionally by elites composed of privileged individuals and groups that are Sociopaths. Those that see their immediate positions of power and influence as a means of obtaining further dominance over the rest of their species. As such, they spend their time devising strategies to apply to the weakest links within current society to encourage them en masse to work together too aid in their own destruction. The various social and national movements of the last several centuries descending into overlapping ‘isms’ that all motivate unique individuals to surrender their uneasy uniqueness for a more secure sense of mindless conformity that theoretically insulates them from responsibility of accounting for their own mistakes.
Women in our current society constantly while being accorded every possible advantage over men institutionally given the mistaken notion that the opposite is true. So much so that in the public domain no one dare say anything to the contrary without risking extreme forms of social outing in terms of work and association. The underlying message to women, not to mention any other usefully insurgent designated minority, being that they have power without the responsibility to own up for their use of it. This blank check seen by those identified as their categorical adversaries as a rigged game. The society then becomes fractured in its adherence to ethics and an extinction of the practice of moral behavior for its own sake. Fear of raining down the power of the State upon one’s transgressions with the current doctrines of rule then becoming the only motivation to provide and tacit unequivocal adherence. The smart phone now in almost universal addictive use being the perfect means and example of reconfiguring human existence in a cellular based motif of lifelong incarceration. The Panopticon of modern communications and potential for instantaneous surveillance from hidden quarters that such a society as configured presents permanently separating and resorting the herd of internally vacant and lonely individuals as required.